


heavy hangs the head

by kaeius



Category: TREASURE (Korea Band), YG Treasure Box (TV)
Genre: M/M, fluff if you squint, platonic!leaderline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeius/pseuds/kaeius
Summary: where jihoon watches hyunsuk carefully through every season, and hyunsuk remembers.
Relationships: Choi Hyunsuk/Park Jihoon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62





	heavy hangs the head

**I.**

The first time Jihoon sees Hyunsuk, he understands instinctively why, despite his age, Hyunsuk is the one the others turn to for direction.

Jihoon recalls being led to the training area by a girl not much older than himself, twisting his hands together in nervous anticipation. In the lift on the way up to the practice floor, she had breezily mentioned that she would be bringing him to greet all the trainees. She tapped her pen on her clipboard as she gave him a rundown of the system – there was Team A, which comprised of the trainees who were the closest to debut, and everybody else. Since he was new, they would have to evaluate him on a monthly basis alongside the existing boys to see where he would stand.

As the lift doors opened, Jihoon took a deep breath to calm his nerves. A song from one of the rooms – distinctively hip hop where the heavy bass mirrored the rapid thrum of his heart – was audible from the lift landing, and which only intensified once the door was swung open. The music was abruptly stopped as the room of boys paused, turning in surprise to the door. Jihoon balked at the entrance to the room, scanning their faces, uncertain.

“These are the Team A kids.” The manager said, gesturing at them. The team as a whole seemed collectively unfazed by a fresh face, many of them nodding at him and saying a murmured hello. While most were welcoming, some appeared guarded and that was something Jihoon understood. _A competitor, they must think._

The boy who had turned off the music was the last to say hello. From the back, his hair was dyed a dusty blonde and his frame was draped by a branded white shirt 4 sizes too big and yet somehow soaked all the way through. As he turned, Jihoon felt eyes scanning him and suddenly felt immensely small and all too aware that his scruffy shoes had holes in them.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked, his voice carrying across the row of his teammates.

“Ah.. Jihoon. Park Jihoon.”

“I’m Hyunsuk. It’s nice to meet you. Let’s work hard together.”

***

As time passed, Jihoon was able to look past the overwhelming rattle of his nerves during each evaluation and began to actually watch the performances put on by everyone else.

The younger trainees who were in elementary school were there for the experience and they tried their best to smile as they fumbled through their routines. But what they lacked in years, they made up for in talent and it was formidable to watch them.

The group that was trying to prove their mettle – Jihoon’s group – was always anxious. Mistakes never made in practice would surface under the hawk-eyed gaze of their assessors, and each error was punished severely with a disappointed sigh. Some would get scolded and some would quit, and despite it all Jihoon stood steady as he learned from the criticisms and blossomed under the praise.

Team A was always the one to watch. Perfectly choreographed and carefully produced, each song and performance they did as a team was a marvel. Jihoon never understood how one month could feel so different when he struggled to put together his group’s cover pieces. At the end of each performance, the team would line up and Hyunsuk – with his shock of blonde hair and always with too many silver accessories – would be in the centre of it all. Come scolding or applause, Hyunsuk was always there with his head held high, taking in the remarks with a deft apology or a sincere bow when necessary. Jihoon always thought Hyunsuk was coolest then.

***

It was a no-brainer then that, when they were declared to be the mega-unit Treasure, that everyone looked to Hyunsuk to take the helm with practices. There was no declaration – not by the management nor by the 12 younger boys – but they all instinctively looked to him for guidance. While he was new to being the eldest, everyone knew of Hyunsuk’s firm yet kind leadership style, where everyone feared his critique but craved his attention.

Hyunsuk adapted to his new role as the _mathyung_ and the leader of YG’s new boy group with easy grace.

At the dorms, he was the warm _hyung_ that everyone went to when they felt down and in need of comfort and advice. He let them all into his room despite how cramped it was – he had chosen the smaller room in favour of letting the younger boys gallivant in the larger areas – and let each of them into his space, no matter the hour.

Yet, in the practice room, Hyunsuk was something fierce. He was almost always the quickest to learn the choreography from the dancer _hyungs_ , and was sharper than them still when it came to scrutinizing the other members. He was also always staying back to help the boys who were juggling school and practice despite their protests to get him home early _for once, hyung, for once!_ He dismissed them with a casual laugh, eyes crinkling into crescents as he told them he would not let them get away with an easier practice without him there.

When things went wrong, he would stay back even later to stand in front of their managers or evaluators with his head bowed and hands folded in front of him to get scolded on behalf of everyone else. When the team would swarm him after he returned to the dorm, Hyunsuk always smiled and laughed off the chastisement with a wave of his hand and ask them to do something more useful, like sleep, instead.

Hyunsuk always played his part well – the perfect leader, the perfect _hyung_ – but Jihoon saw how the shadows under his eyes grew longer every morning and how his shoulders became more hunched under the weight of it all.

**II.**

Even when everything fell apart, Hyunsuk stood strong at the front. Jihoon was always looking at his back, stoic and sure, his shoulders deceptively broad beneath the oversized shirts Hyunsuk was fond of wearing.

Hyunsuk was always unyielding in the tumultuous face of the unknown. Even when the CEO stepped down. Even when the seniors whom they loved (and whom loved them in return) left. Even when Yoonbin broke down that one night and told them _I can’t do it, I can’t do it, I need to go._

When Yoonbin left, Jihoon did too. The minute the car had driven away, Jihoon grabbed his coat and let the door slam behind him and let his feet take him forwards despite the calls of his name behind him. He did not have much besides his wallet with limited cash, his mobile phone which he swiftly turned off and his coat but he did not care. He just wanted to forget.

When he came home at 2 am, he did not feel any better than he did that morning. He just felt more tired, more drained, and more hateful. He knew Yoonbin had done what was best for himself and somewhere deep down, amidst the swirling whirlpool of dark emotions, he was happy for him. But tonight, he just wanted to let himself be selfish and bitter.

Opening the door, he startled at the sight of Hyunsuk sitting on his bed like he belonged there. He looked up from his phone, the screen illuminating his face and the wire frames of his glasses.

“You’re home.” Hyunsuk said non-chalantly, like Jihoon had not gone missing for more than 12 hours. Jihoon inhaled sharply, bracing himself for a lecture about not running off and preparing a million and one retorts to reason with his leader.

“ _Hyung_ ,” Jihoon began, his tone guarded. “What are you doing here?”

Hyunsuk smiled gently at him, putting his phone down and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Resting his elbows on his knees, he looked at Jihoon softly. “I know you don’t like being alone.”

And that was enough. All day, he had been gritting his teeth to get by and relying on his anguish to stem the flow of tears but they now carved their way freely down his face. He clenched his fists to his sides as his shoulders shook, before shielding his eyes with one of his forearms. He was angry. Angry that someone he loved had left him again. Angry that the bed above his was once again empty. Angry that, just when he felt safe enough to believe these 12 other boys would be with him forever, he was blindsided yet again.

He felt arms wrap around him, one hand placed gently against the nape of his neck and one firmly on the small of his back. A solid form in front of him, he buried his head into the crook of Hyunsuk’s neck and cried until he was empty.

**III.**

The months that followed were exceptionally difficult for all of them. The managing team was in a frenzy with the higher management on what was next, and the group was left in the lurch. Slated to debut in the summer, they were set to be on an indefinite hiatus. It felt awful and unreal, and Jihoon saw the aimless look he had mirrored in the eyes of everyone around him. Although it was on everyone’s minds, the possibility of not debuting weighed heavily. It was a common understanding, but never spoken aloud.

Tension – borne from more than a year of waiting – was rising high and the desperation had become palpable. After the group merger, the close proximity in which they lived, breathed, and existed grew too much. Each day, the practice room was fraught with electricity as they began snapping at each other.

On one unremarkable day, an argument between Jeongwoo and Haruto got particularly heated and before any one could register it, the two teenagers were drawn to their fullest height and grabbing at each other’s shirts to get their point across. The ferocity of their argument was culled only by Hyunsuk raising his voice, yelling at them to get their shit together and that they were not the only ones suffering, and _can’t you see that everyone is as upset as you are about the possibility we may not debut again, stop taking it out on each other!_

The sound of the door slamming echoed in the large room, where everyone had stilled. In the corner, there was a long exhale of an expletive by Junkyu as he shared a look with Yedam, never having heard Hyunsuk raise his voice once in the long years they had trained together. Cowed by the anger of their eldest, there were murmurs of apologies that swept amongst the sheepish pair.

“His phone’s off..” Doyoung trailed off, looking at his phone’s screen dejectedly, the beeping from a rejected call audible in the loud quiet of the room.

“Go practice, okay? I’ll find him.” Jihoon said, striding out of the practice room and closing the door quietly with a click.

***

Years of training in the same place every minute of every hour of every day meant that he knew the building like the back of his hand. So he knew that the only place where there was solace outside of the prying eyes of security cameras was the roof.

Jihoon saw his back first, where he was sitting on the wooden table with his feet stamped on the accompanying bench. His head was bowed forwards, resting in his hands. From where he was, Hyunsuk looked awfully small. He had none of his usual grandeur today, dressed plainly in all black and devoid of his usual necklaces and rings that he had taken off for practice. Right now, Jihoon was astutely aware that Hyunsuk was barely a year older than he was. He approached gingerly, before clambering up the table to sit next to him when he was not met with any rebuke.

“It’s hard, Jihoon.” Hyunsuk whispered after a moment of silence, voice raw like he had been screaming or crying, Jihoon was not sure which was worse. Still buried in the palms of his hands, Hyunsuk shook his head forlornly. Helpless as he felt, Jihoon wrapped an arm around Hyunsuk’s shoulder – had he always been this skinny? – settling closer as Hyunsuk rested his weight bodily against him.

“I know, _hyung_.” Jihoon murmured, rubbing Hyunsuk’s arm soothingly. “I’m sorry it is.”

They lapsed into silence, broken only by the sound of the wind roaring through the taller buildings nearby. There was nothing to say that they did not already know.

They watched the sun set, the colours of the sky muted beneath the thick clouds, letting themselves indulge in the solitude that has grown all too rare these days. As tired as they were, as difficult as it was, they both knew that they would continue pushing forwards until their dreams would materialise.

But the respite was welcome where, for the first time in many years, they could simply exist as themselves.

**Epilogue.**

Hyunsuk sees Jihoon grow up in phases.

He remembers the shy boy from Busan, fringe hanging low over his bright eyes as he says his name in heavy _satoori_ , standing in the doorway. He remembers the look Jihoon had as he scanned the room, something akin to fear and excitement that reminded Hyunsuk of how he had looked at the practice room a few years ago when he had first been accepted as well. It was that very look that told Hyunsuk he needed to pay close attention to this boy, that he was not like the many other unfamiliar faces that would come with high hopes, only to leave with shattered spirits once the going got tough. After Jihoon left to get settled, he had smiled and told his boys to watch their backs and to practice harder.

Hyunsuk remembers watching Jihoon flourish at each trainee evaluation – both group and individual – and it came to nobody’s surprise when Jihoon was eventually promoted to Team A. He assimilated easily, often at the centre of attention during their breaks, showing off a dance he learnt from some pop anthem that was topping the charts or laughing boisterously at some awful joke. A playful _dongsaeng_ and a reliable _hyung_ , Jihoon fit right into the team like he had always belonged.

They grew immensely close and comfortable, the two of them spending endless expanses of time together. They would lie on the wooden floor of their practice room, the air heavy with the smell of sweat from the day, talking about their lives and learning both about and from each other. Jihoon’s level-headed yet kind nature was something he gained strength from, his own emotions labile on the best of days although carefully tempered.

But while he sees Jihoon grow and blossom, he also sees him falter. When they make Jihoon leave on that awful spring day when the winds had just lost their icy touch, Hyunsuk had walked into the empty bedroom and punched the wall with such fervour that his skin split, blood blooming across his knuckles. When Jihoon eventually comes back and asks about the fissures in the wall that were definitely not there when he left, the team shrugs, blatantly not looking at Hyunsuk who shuffles his feet quietly.

As they battle through uncertainty, Hyunsuk finds himself relying more and more on Jihoon. An extra pair of eyes to scan the choreography or an extra voice to get the attention of the rowdy group was always welcome, but more so was Jihoon’s surety when emceeing their programs or Jihoon’s carefully worded appeals in discussion with their managers. Hyunsuk had never taken his eyes off of him, but is still unsure when the scrawny Busan kid wearing his too-old shoes had become the trustworthy man who stood shoulder to shoulder at his side.

***

“ _Hyung_? We have to go for the shoot now.”

Jihoon’s voice pierces through the haze of memories he had rooted himself in, startling Hyunsuk to look up. Jihoon’s in his doorway, already dressed and ready, sans his shoes.

“Oh yeah?” Hyunsuk muses, glancing at the clock which tells him he has 10 minutes to get changed and head out the door.

“Yeah, now!” Jihoon replies with a laugh. “Don’t get lazy with the schedule just because I’m leader now, too.”

Hyunsuk smiles fondly, “I’ll be there.”

The crown did not feel so heavy when it was between the two of them.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! this was not beta-ed and written in a flurry because i love my leaderline so much.


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